Paris’s heart was jackhammering so hard that he was surprised it hadn’t given out on him. What this thing—god or devil—was saying was sickening.
“I think that’s enough of a lesson for today, don’t you? Now—wake up.”
PARIS JERKED AWAKE and found himself staring up at that half-skeletal mask over Thanos’s face, and he was stunned to find that what had once been frightening was now a relief to see.
“You’re back,” the vampire said, and Paris swallowed as his eyes darted around the room to see Leo with a worried look on his face and Alasdair with a scowl. “We know where you went. Leo filled us in. What did he say? What do they want?”
Paris blinked up at the piercing blue eyes and said the only thing he knew to be true: “They want you all to die.”
ONCE ISADORA HAD calmed her nerves enough to locate Diomêdês, she faded to where she sensed her Ancient was. When she arrived in the holding cell outside the Chamber, she was slightly unnerved to find Vasilios with Diomêdês in the center of the bleak room.
Oh gods, what happened in here?
As soon as she was fully formed, Diomêdês turned in her direction, and the concern on his usually serious expression told of his deeply rooted ties to her emotions. He could sense her fear and her worry, and was by her side in an instant.
“What is it, miikri mou polemistria?”
“Eton,” she managed, but even as she recalled what she had seen, she couldn’t quite explain it. Nor could she shake the feeling of dread that had overcome her since entering this locale.
“No. He’s not here,” Diomêdês said, his hand going to her arm in a gesture of comfort.
“I know,” she said, and then her gaze shifted to Vasilios.
He was standing behind Diomêdês in a robe, with a stony look plastered on his face, and his focus was aimed in their direction. He was one hundred percent zeroed in on her, and the force of his concentration was somewhat alarming. “What do you mean, you know, Isadora?”
She lowered her gaze, trying to think of the best way to say this, but also knew that if she was wrong and accused an Ancient of something he was maybe sent to do, then she would be in a whole lot of shit.
“I just saw him, Vasilios.”
Vasilios crossed over to where the two of them stood, and she raised her eyes a fraction. He was examining her closely now, his lips pulled tight, and she could feel him probing her mind for access.
Since she figured there was no way she would ever be able to explain what had just happened, she let Vasilios inside to see for himself.
She remembered the red eyes blazing at her, the punishing hold on Elias’s neck, and the deadly, sinister growl Eton had aimed her way. But then, just as it had happened in reality, she recalled the flash of recognition for the Ancient she had always known. The one who had always been of a gentle nature.
Eton’s blue eyes had surfaced through all that rage, and he’d seen her, before being taken over once more by whatever was roiling inside of him.
“Damn it all,” Vasilios said as he spun away from her.
“Brother? It is true, then. Eton?” Diomêdês said, following after Vasilios.
“Yes. It is he. And we are in a whole lot of strife with this. He has taken that infuriating male of yours.”
“Elias,” Diomêdês said, and looked over his shoulder to where Isadora stood.
She swallowed around the lump in her throat and then managed to nod.
“Makes sense,” Vasilios said. “He’s going after the one who hurt him. Who hurt his Thanos. That’s what I’d do.”
“It doesn’t matter why he’s doing it,” Diomêdês said in a voice that sent a chill straight to the marrow of Isadora’s bones. “We need to find him—now.”
“I am aware. But how do you propose we do that? He didn’t exactly leave a calling card. Who knows where he took that fucker?”
Isadora looked between the two males she had come to admire, respect, and hold on the highest of pedestals, and felt her fear from earlier return tenfold. If these two were worried about Eton then what did that mean for Elias?
She’d only ever seen them this disturbed by one thing, and that was the threat to their kind—the appearance of the demigods. So what kind of threat did that make Eton?
“Thanos,” Diomêdês said. “We use Thanos.”
“It won’t work. Eton broke their bond.”
Isadora gasped and brought her hands to her mouth. Oh gods. Eton had broken the Ancient bond? Poor Thanos. She couldn’t imagine the loss of such a presence in her life. It would be like a part of her had died.
“They weren’t bonded the first time around, and it worked,” Diomêdês said. “It’s the energy Thanos brings. His control that draws Eton back from whatever hell he loses himself in.”
As Isadora listened to her Ancient’s words, she heard them but didn’t really understand or connect them with the Thanos she had always known.
Alasdair was the serious one.
She was the seducer.
And Thanos, he was the playboy. Always the charmer, with a skilled tongue when it came to telling the most elaborate and believable…lies.
Huh, it seemed he was most skilled after all. Thanos had always portrayed his relationship with Eton as a close friendship and nothing more. Apparently, that had been the biggest lie of all, because there seemed to be a whole lot more to it, and to Thanos, than her and Alasdair had ever known.
Appearances, she was coming to find, could be very deceiving.
“I agree with you, Diomêdês,” Vasilios said. “But you seem to have forgotten that Thanos is hardly the male he was the first time we met him. He is bitter and so consumed in his own pitiful existence that he doesn’t seem to give a damn what’s going on with Eton. Or his entire species, for that matter.” Vasilios began to pace in the cell, shaking his head. “I have a good mind to give him his wish and end him for what he’s done here tonight. We need to get back to my chambers. Find out what that male, Paris, did in here. How he plays into all this that he can suck the life right out of one of us. It appears that, like Leonidas, he is clueless, or he would’ve done so to me when I had a hold of him earlier.”
“And what of Eton and Elias?” Diomêdês asked.
Vasilios turned back to face Isadora and her Ancient, and she saw one of his dark eyebrows arch. “If I recall, that Elias male once told me I had no power. That everything was happening for a reason. Well, let us see what he makes of this. He’s a wily one, I’m sure he will work out a way to survive.”
Isadora’s mouth fell open at the fate Vasilios had just passed down to Elias, and she was about to protest when she felt a hand upon her arm. Diomêdês had heard her thoughts and was warning her to leave it for the moment. She blinked up at him, and knew her worry was on her face.
Do not trouble yourself. I actually believe Vasilios to be right. Elias Fontana is a fighter. He is born of the huntress Artemis, and if the gods have indeed put all of this into action, then he is exactly where he must be for now.
“Agreed,” Vasilios said, not at all remorseful for having listened to a private exchange.
“But you didn’t see Eton,” she said. “He’s—”
“Trust me, we have seen him far worse,” Diomêdês told her. “Let us go. Let us find Thanos and this Paris, and work out a way to track down Eton and the one you so foolishly worry for.”
She nodded, trusting Diomêdês with not only her life but Elias’s, and just before they left the cell, she heard Vasilios in her mind and knew he was also in Diomêdês’s as he tsked them both: If you think Eton is bad now, just wait… I cannot begin to imagine the wrath we will be in for once he learns that the two of you took that traitor to your bed.
“You are not helping, Vasilios,” Diomêdês growled.
“I am merely trying to prepare her for what’s to transpire, brother. Now come—we must find the others.”
“LEAVE US FOR a minute,” Thanos said, addressing both Alasdair and Leo without ra
ising his eyes from the brown ones peering up at him.
“I think we should hear what he has to—”
“Leave. Us,” Thanos boomed at Alasdair, and this time glared up at his cousin, leaving little doubt that he wanted him gone. Alasdair’s attention shifted to Paris, and then he inclined his head ever so slightly.
“As you wish. Come, Leonidas.”
Thanos didn’t bother waiting for them to be gone before addressing the male in his arms. “What happened to you?”
“I…I don’t really know,” Paris said, and brought a hand up to his forehead. “One minute I was in here watching you leave, and then…” He paused, and the fingers at his temple began to shake. “Then it was dark and I was all alone. Except for this voice.”
Thanos wasn’t sure why, but he reached for the fingers at Paris’s temple and drew them down to the man’s lap, keeping a firm hold around them, trying to ground him. “Talk to me. Tell me what you saw, Paris Antoniou.”
Paris blinked a couple of times and then slicked his tongue over his lower lip. “I didn’t see anything. Not really. It was dark. Like in your room. I couldn’t see more than an arm’s length. But the voice it…it was bone-chilling.”
The tremble that racked Paris’s body lent credence to his words, and Thanos wondered how he’d ever let himself believe that this male had any malicious intent toward him.
“What did it say? Tell me.”
Paris’s eyes widened at the demand, and then a furrow formed between his brows. “Okay, but first…before this happened, we were talking.”
No, Thanos thought, we were finished talking because you were asking for things I did not wish to give.
“And I asked you for something.”
Yes. Something I cannot give.
“I want that. Take the hood off. You can keep the mask. I don’t expect that. Just…show me who I’m talking to. I’m sick of being kept in the dark about everything. Then I’ll tell you what I know.”
Thanos released the hand he hadn’t realized he was still holding, and then slumped back against the tiled wall.
Paris…he was relentless.
He had asked him back in his chambers why he hid himself away. Had asked Thanos to show himself over and over, and here he was again demanding to see what Thanos knew he wouldn’t ever be able to unsee again.
“I don’t deny your request out of stubbornness.” As soon as Thanos said the words, he knew them to be true.
At first he hadn’t wanted to see anyone due to concern over how they might react. Now, he didn’t wish to show anyone for fear they’d never be able to forget the horror. “I saw the way you flinched at this mask that I wear. But what is beneath it is far worse.”
Paris shuffled to sit up then but was careful not to touch him, and Thanos found himself wanting to give him what he so obviously wanted. He wasn’t sure why, but he was close to positive it was the innocence in his eyes that was swaying him.
“Please,” Paris said. “Nothing you show me can scare me now.”
Thanos’s lips twitched at that. He is trying so hard to be brave. But he has no idea what he is asking for.
He admired the male’s bravado even as he wished him to cease his current path. It took courage to face off with their kind under any circumstance, but after what Paris had been through in the last twenty-four hours, it took serious gumption.
“And how would you know what would or wouldn’t scare you? You have yet to see what you ask for,” he said, and wondered why he hadn’t dumped the guy off his lap and out of reach.
I should end this, he thought. Tell him to back off before it is too late. But as Paris slowly raised his hand, Thanos found himself reaching for the wrist and spouting out a request of his own: “Release your hair for me.”
The words hadn’t been the ones he’d intended, but when Paris froze in place, Thanos wondered if he would do as asked. Paris appeared to think over the request, and then stroked the long chestnut strands, twirling them around his fingers. It looked so soft to the touch, silky and luxurious, and made Thanos want to feel the smooth texture between his fingers.
“Why? Why do you want me to release it?” Paris asked, as if he knew he’d just found some kind of leverage. Some kind of play.
“Because I wish to see it.”
“But why?” he asked again, and this time the slight waver that accompanied the question made Thanos lick his lips.
Just as Paris was curious about the way he looked, Thanos had wanted to see that long hair fanned out around Paris’s shoulders ever since he’d raced into his bedchambers. And even with his entire world going to hell, he could feel the stirrings of arousal coursing through his veins—a feeling he hadn’t experienced since before.
He was attracted to this man, and the hitch in Paris’s breathing was a clear indication that even without having seen him, Paris was attracted too.
“Why, Thanos?” he asked again, and when he added his name this time, Thanos was useless to resist.
He stroked his thumb over the pulse of Paris’s wrist and then whispered, “Because I want to see something beautiful.”
PARIS SWALLOWED THE best he could around the lump that had formed in his throat. The seductive timbre of Thanos’s voice hypnotized him into swaying closer to his big body, as the sincerity of his words wrapped around him.
This vampire, the one who had just comforted him as one would a frightened child, was now watching him with a heated expression that Paris recognized—arousal. Thanos thought he was beautiful, and his praise had somehow bolstered Paris’s nerve to ask again for what he wanted.
“If I do it, release my hair for you, will you remove the hood?” He nervously fiddled with his hair and waited, wondering if the pull was as strong for Thanos as it was for him. Then the word maybe echoed inside his mind, and Paris sucked in his breath at the intimacy of it.
Thanos hadn’t communicated with him like that since his chambers, and never while holding Paris’s stare so intently. Wow, even without having seen the rest of him, Thanos’s blue eyes alone were utterly captivating.
“Maybe?” he dared ask.
“Yes,” Thanos said, and Paris’s entire body reacted to the low melody of it. God, the proximity of him and the brush of fingertips against the underside of Paris’s wrist had his heart racing. It was so slight, hardly anything at all. Yet it felt more significant than any touch he’d ever received. “Maybe.”
Paris chewed his lower lip before he blurted out, “Please. Don’t lie to me. I want to see you.” And until right then, he hadn’t realized how much. As those cool fingers ran over the back of his hand, Paris shuddered under the sensual touch—then they were gone.
“Very well.”
Paris was so surprised that Thanos had agreed that his mouth fell open, but nothing came out.
“But you first,” Thanos said, raising a blond eyebrow at him.
Paris slowly brought his fingers up to the band he had wrapped around his hair. He drew it down the long length of it, and when he reached the ends, he heard a soft expletive.
Thanos’s cerulean eyes were incandescent as he reached out to gently touch his hair, and the sight was breathtaking.
“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You are extraordinarily beautiful.”
The reverence in those words was enough to make Paris raise a hand to touch the back of the one Thanos had threaded through his hair, and when the vampire didn’t flinch or pull away from him, Paris smiled. “Thank you. Now it’s your turn.”
“Do you trust me?”
The question was so out of character that Paris wasn’t sure how to answer. Up until now Thanos hadn’t seemed to care one way or another if Paris trusted him. He just did what he wanted. But here, in this moment, the fact that he was asking made Paris wonder if there was more happening between them than a simple show-and-tell session.
Before he could respond and tell Thanos that yes, he did trust him, the vampire was already speaking again.
“You shouldn’t tru
st me. Not really. But if you do, even a little, relax. Relax and I will show you who I am.”
Thanos then removed his hand from his hair and entwined their fingers, and the gesture was so tender that Paris’s heart broke a little for the male who had deprived himself of companionship when he so desperately craved it.
But in the silent seconds that followed, Paris made himself relax there, sitting in the lap of one he knew next to nothing of, and before he knew what was about to happen, Thanos said, “This is where it all started. Where my life truly began. This is me…”
Ancient Peiraieús, The red-light district—20 BC
PARIS CLUTCHED AT the side of his head as white spots flickered in front of him. Christ Almighty, this mind-melding shit should come with a warning that it could cause permanent brain damage with the pain that followed. It felt as though someone was hitting his skull with a hammer.
He rubbed at his eyelids with the heel of his palms, and when he lowered his hands and his surroundings came into focus, he caught his breath.
Shit, where the hell am I?
The strong smell of salt air hit his nose first, followed by the overwhelming stench of fish. Paris pivoted on his feet slowly, and as several rickety piers came into focus, he shook his head as if to—what, clear it? Yeah, no hope of that happening anytime soon.
If he hadn’t been the one standing there, he never would’ve believed what he was seeing. But as the bustling crowd of people hurried all around him as though he wasn’t there, he couldn’t deny it.
Somehow, Thanos had…taken him back in time? Conjured an image—wait, no, a memory. He’d told him, “This is where it all started. Where my life truly began. This is me…”
And shit, if Paris hadn’t believed any of what he’d been told over the past however many hours, this was a damn hard vision to deny.
Men and women wearing sandals and togas of varying style and color littered the wooden planks of the pier where he stood in his jeans, black shirt, and Doc Martens, and his mind tried to catch up with what was going on. It was obvious by the way people moved by him with no surprise that he wasn’t actually there, and that in itself was one hell of a mind fuck.